A Little More Than Just A Lovely Lady
by GirlWithTheNotebook
Summary: First Les Mis fic, so be nice :) Movieverse, AU: what I thought should have happened at the barricades cause I like butt-kicking Éponine and speechless Enjolras. Picks up after Gavroche has been shot, with mention of the barricade boys and a lack of them dying (cause I love them all too much). Oneshot, É/E (slight one-sided É/M) Rated T for language.


**A/N: Okay so this is an idea that occurred to me a little while ago, let's blame it on an attack of the plot bunnies. Yes it's completely impossible, a tiny bit ridiculous and obviously wouldn't ever happen in the universe of Les Mis, but hey ho there's the beauty of fanfiction!**

**So this picks up just after Gavroche has been shot for the first time (movieverse), for the sake of the story let's say the Musain has a flat roof… Italics are singing (or thoughts) and in this Éponine never went to the barricades and never died – just to be clear.**

**This is the first thing I've ever written for Les Mis, so fair to say I'm feeling pretty intimidated cause you guys are like crazy smart, and I'm… not. But whatever, leave a review and let me know what you thought of my first foray into the universe of Les Misérables!**

**Oh I actually do own Les Misérables as I am Victor Hugo reincarnated. Yeah I wish. So no, I own nothing…**

**Enjoy mes amis :D**

'_We'll fight like twenty armies and we won't give up!'_

'GAVROCHE!'

'YOU BASTARDS!'

'SOMEONE STOP HIM!'

The cries of desperate boys rang dimly in the ears of the child clutching small bags of ammunition in his fists. Gavroche forced himself not to listen to Courfeyrac's pleas for him to return to the relative safety of the barricade, and instead kept singing. Singing a ridiculous song in spite of the wound in his shoulder streaming blood. Closing his eyes, the boy forced the words out, willing them to burn with the same passion he felt, the same passion he heard when Enjolras spoke of a better future for all of France.

'_So you better… run for cover… when the… pup… grows-'_

Every man in that street flinched at the cruel, harsh sound of the bullet being fired – all of them knowing what it would mean for the little boy with enough to say for all of Paris. Gavroche screwed his eyes closed, bracing himself for the pain. For the sensation of the metal tearing its way through his slight frame.

Except, the pain never came. Gavroche remained where he stood, clasping the leather pouches to his chest.

Enjolras, looked disbelievingly along with rest of the amis as Gavroche appeared to be unharmed. Their confusion grew as the soldier who had been about to deliver the fatal to shot to the boy that the young revolutionaries had come to consider a brother, fell to ground, a bullet buried in his chest.

Enjorlas caught Marius' eye, he was certain that no one from their side had fired a shot, many of them too concerned with trying to hold back Courfeyrac. Suddenly, a loud cry resounded from above:

'UP HERE YOU BASTARDS!'

Enjolras was not a man easily scared and it took a great deal to cause the proclaimed 'Marble Man' to be rendered speechless. But that day, as Enjolras' eyes sought out the source of the furious, slightly smug shout; he felt his chiselled jaw slacken in shock. A motion mirrored similarly by students and soldiers both.

For standing precariously on the roof of the Musain_, _with a musket clenched in her hands was none other than Éponine Thérnadier. She stood proud and defiant, hair blowing in the breeze, her slim (perhaps too slim) figure on display for all to see, in a pair of tightly fitting trousers and shirt.

The blue eyed man thought that if his beloved Patriawere ever to be represented in human form the young gamine currently staring down the National Guard would be it. He was utterly mesmerised, enchanted, maybe even… besotted. Wait. Merde, it seemed as if hanging around with romantic fools like Pontmercy and Jehan had finally begun to rub off on him.

Enjolras considered Éponine. At first she had been someone of very little consequence to him, she had simply been Marius' shadow, following him everywhere doing whatever he asked of her. If he was honest, Enjolras felt a shade of disgust for her willingness to be treated like his puppy and his blatant ignorance of her feelings for him.

One night though it had all changed. Enjolras had stayed late at the Musain working on a speech for a rally and was on his way home when a scream caught his ear. Rushing around the corner, he saw a struggling Éponine being held against a wall by that brute of a bastard Montparnasse. To her credit Éponine was fighting back with every fibre of her small body, no doubt fuelled by adrenaline and desperation.

Enjolras felt a glimmer of something akin to pride at the sight of three bloody scratches down the side of the assassin's face and his groan of pain as Éponine directed her bony knee to his crotch. However, even her fire and ferocity couldn't match the sheer size and weight of Montparnasse.

The same fire could be felt emanating from her as she glared down at the soldiers, who had dared to harm her brother. With that thought Enjolras swung his head round to see both Courfeyrac and Gavroche staring at Éponine on the other side of the barricade. He quickly ran to other end of the barricade and caught Courfeyrac's attention. His friend understood and quickly picked up the boy and they were both safely behind the barricade before the soldiers could notice their movement.

Éponine raised one hand to her lips and gave a short, sharp whistle.

'_Look down and see the bastards on the street'_

If Enjolras thought this situation could become any more absurd, he saw figures streaking into view upon the roofs. Some, like Éponine, held guns; others held flaming torches, knifes even stones. For the most part, their 'cavalry' seemed to be made up of the poor of Paris – people who had been forced into their dishonest lives by the cruel hand of the fat, greedy pigs who kept France in chains. The people that Enjolras and his friends were fighting for.

A chuckle sounded to his left, Grantaire looking upwards with what could be described as pride on his face.

'Trust 'Ponine to come to the rescue with an army of singing whores and thieves.'

The drunk caught the Marble Man's eye and for the first time they shared a grin, as the soldiers felt the wrath of the deprived of Paris.

'_Look down and beg for mercy if you can' _

Éponine felt a swelling in her chest as she saw the men at her feet, staring up at her mouths agape. Turning her head she caught the eye of Henri, a boy she had befriended on the streets a while ago. Between the two of them they had been able to round up at least 80 people and convinced them to help the boys at the barricade.

_**Her**_ barricade boys.

Éponine smiled softly at the thought, never-sober Grantaire, romantic Jehan, skirt-chasing Courfeyrac, paranoid Joly, sensible and steady Combeferre, unlucky Bossuet, fiery Bahorel, loving Feuilly and of course Marius and Enjolras.

Marius, her Marius, except she really held no claim to him. He was Cosette's now. He was never really hers to loose. Oddly, Éponine felt only a dull ache in her chest thinking these words, instead of the heart shattering, soul breaking agony she had expected. She realised that her infatuation with Marius was something she had clung to, like a habit retained from childhood. He had been a constant source of happiness and affection – something sorely lacking in the rest of her life. No wonder she had clung to him and her adolescent notion of love.

But as she watched him and his friends prepare to die she realised, they were fighting for people like her. Even her brother, brave little Gavroche, was prepared to die for the chance of making France a better place for all. She had decided she wished to help them, to stand by their side as they fought for their new world. What the young Thernadier had not expected was for her pledge of allegiance to the cause to be turned down so vehemently.

Just because she was a girl, those idiots thought she couldn't handle herself. They thought that she wouldn't last five minutes behind the barricade. Well she showed them didn't she? Éponine could not help but grin at the sight of the 'scum of the street' absolutely flooring these men below her.

As she had walked amongst the wreck of the Bastille the previous night she had thought of those supposed bourgeois boys, who had not looked down their noses at her tattered rags, tangled hair or dirty face. She thought of Enjolras who had come to her rescue where most men would have left her at the mercy of Montparnasse.

She recalled so clearly that night, how he had strode over to Montparnasse and grabbed his wrist to prevent him from striking her again.

'I believe the mademoiselle is not in want of your company monsieur.'

His voice, that powerful voice, which had the ability to rouse a whole square of people had been deathly soft. The barely supressed rage clear in those striking blue eyes, which seemed as hard as ice. Montparnasse was by no means a small man or one easily overpowered, yet after a shot scuffle Enjolras had sent him on his way with more than a few bruises.

Afterwards, Éponine had been at a loss as to what to say or do. She wasn't used to someone looking out for her, let alone saving her from a beating or worse. However, Enjolras had seemed as uneasy as her. The two had rarely spoken outside of a brief introduction on Marius' part when she first accompanied him to a meeting of The Les Amis de l'ABC.

Looking up at him, it struck Éponine for the first time just how handsome he was. It wasn't the same boyish appeal that Marius held. With his chiselled jaw, sapphire eyes, golden curls and muscled frame Enjolras was most definitely a man and not a boy.

He had insisted on walking her home, and slowly the two had talked. Only revealing little things, almost without realising, but it was only until they were both on the brink of sleep that they realised, somehow – rather unexpectedly – they had become friends.

'_Look down and see the pawns of the King'_

Two sharp whistles, snapped Éponine out of her reverie. She shrieked:

'DOWN, EVERYONE DOWN NOW!'

It seemed the soldiers had finally recovered the wits, and unfortunately, up on the roofs of the street Éponine and her friends were completely exposed. At her cry, many flattened themselves against the roofs and the soldiers shots rang over their heads.

Merde.

Enjolras started yelling at the top of his lungs, willing those stood at the barricade into action. The soldiers had realised that their rooftop saviours had to be taken care of. He called his friends to arms, telling to them to start shooting at the soldiers whilst they were distracted.

As soon as the soldiers begun to reload, Enjolras could faintly hear another cry from the roof, through the din of the battle below. He saw soldiers being to fall – not by their hands, but by the rooftop army.

_Clever Éponine. _Enjolras thought, waiting for the soldiers to empty their guns, and knowing they would need to time to reload. Their well-timed shots seemed to be effective, between the two groups of fighters, the National Guard were slowly but surely being fought back.

Out of the corner of his eye, Enjolras could see figures begin to start the treacherous descent down to join their comrades on the street. Once more he barked orders in order to ensure that their allies were not struck down. He could feel the adrenaline coursing a burning path through his veins, setting everything aflame, inside of him.

Éponine couldn't help the flutter of her heart as she saw Enjolras running the length of the barricade, yelling orders at the top of his lungs; looking more alive than she had ever seen. She considered the ironic tragedy, he could be dead within minutes. No. She would not allow that to happen to the man that had come to mean so much to her these past weeks.

Catching Henri's eye she gestured for him to take lead up here and gave the signal for the others to follow her down from the roofs. As she slung her stolen musket over her shoulder, Éponine prayed that she and her friends would make it down safely and that between Henri and Enjolras, they would be covered.

'_Look down, look down upon your fellow man!' _

Breathing a sigh of relief as her feet touched the ground, Éponine wasted no time in looking for her brother. To her horror she saw his unconscious body cradled in Courfeyrac's arms as Joly pressed a blood-stained rag against his shoulder. Feeling her own blood drain from her face, Éponine ran into the café, her heart beating wildly in her chest. _No not Gavroche, please not him. _

She clenched Joly's shoulder, he turned to look at her:

'Éponine, I think he will pull through, the wound is not too severe but he has lost a fair amount of blood.'

She gulped, unable to tear her eyes from her 'Roche's face, how innocent he looked.

'Ep.'

This time it was Courfeyrac who spoke.

'I'll look after him, you go out there and make sure the rest of our friends don't die.'

The two locked eyes, an understanding passing between them. With one hand, she stroked the length of Gavroche's face and gave both Joly and Courf' a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. In an undertone, she murmured to Joly:

'You might want to get ready, I get the feeling that there will be more that require your skills my friend.'

Joly nodded in understanding, his face set in grim lines. With one more lingering look to the two men and her brother, Éponine got to her feet and ran towards the utter chaos before her. Taking a deep breath, she jumped into the melee, gripping the gun in her hands.

The next few minutes passed in a blur. She lost count of how many men she shot and how men on their side were injured. She didn't realise who she was fighting alongside, one moment it was Combeferre, then next Marius, then Grantaire, then Jehan and then she found herself next to Enjolras. Neither looked at one another, yet for some inexplicable reason felt a sudden sense of safety and security wash over them. As if the other's proximity was enough to drive them onwards.

Whether it was minutes or hours, none could be sure, there was a call of:

'BACK! FALL BACK!'

Everyone held their breath, prepared for the slightest chance of attack, as the soldiers retreated. Once the last man had left the street, a resounding cheer rose from all. Éponine and Enjolras gazes locked, both a little battle worn – almost as if they were drinking in the fact that they were both alive.

Something shifted in between them, before Éponine could act upon any kind of foolish whim or adrenaline fuelled desire, she heard her name being called. Looking over her shoulder she saw the partially hidden entrance to the sewers being swung open. Grinning, she scampered over helping to pull the young boys from the murky depths and into daylight. Also, a large, canvas bag was hoisted out. Éponine pulled it away, lest it be lost in the sewers once more. Smiling triumphantly, she spoke:

'So this was what we were able to get on such short notice, it's probably not as much as we're going to need – but I'll think it will be helpful.'

With that one of the boys that hung around with Gavroche stepped forward, absolutely coated in muck from head to toe, and undid the straps of the bag – revealing guns, ammunition, even medical supplies. Enough to keep this small flame of a revolution burning a little while longer.

At the sight, there was once more a mighty cheer from those not injured (or tending to the injured). Enjolras stepped forward from the din, his intense gaze once more meeting Éponine's. Without speaking a word, he clasped one hand around her waist, hauling her to him and another hand cupping her face. And then he drew her into a passionate kiss. Their lips met in a blaze of longing, gratitude and something else neither could put a name to.

There was a beat of silence, as those assembled were stunned into shock at the sight of the famously impassive leader kissing this gamine as if his life depended on it. Then Grantaire spoke:

'It's about bloody time.'

Their friends laughed in agreement, except Marius who looked a little stunned at the sight of two of his friends who he had supposed did not know each other beyond a mutual acquaintance. When neither seemed to respond, except to tighten their embrace around one another, Graintaire let loose a huff of annoyance:

'OI! THERE'S STILL A BLOODY REVOLUTION GOING ON HERE!'

They broke apart, Enjolras' cheeks flushing with colour and Éponine looking partly stunned and partly smug. With a discreet cough, they moved to organise their respective groups, only glancing at each other once or twice discreetly – or so they thought.

**A/N: So there it is. Hated it? Loved it? Had a Marius-like indifference to it? Let me know by leaving a review below! **

**Holy hell this is a lot longer than I originally intended! It's probably too long, too detailed and too confusing but I hope you all enjoyed that as much as I did. Like I said it's something which is a little bit silly but satisfies my need to have a butt-kicking Éponine who won't take shit from anyone. I agree that she is probably quite a bit OOC but I think she would be very protective of her brother and her friends once her focus was shifted from Marius.**

**Also I have many Enjonine feels and I thought this was the best way to deal with them :P**

**I hope that people didn't get too confused as to whose viewpoint the story was being told from, the very beginning was Gavroche and then from there it switches between Enjolras and Éponine. And yes I slightly altered the lyrics of Paris/Look Down to suit the context, if you listen to the movie version there's a wonderful moment where the singing begins that I imagined to accompany the moment that Éponine reveals herself. **

**I apologise for any mistakes or inaccuracies this is unbetad and I have not read the novel the whole way through, I'm mostly going from the movie, musical and other fics that I've read!**


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